


Tyranny of Choice

by NoelBlue



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Erotica, Harems, Humor, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Relationship(s), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 07:54:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11824353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoelBlue/pseuds/NoelBlue
Summary: It's several months since Fitz (Dadsona) and Robert discussed their feelings for each other, and during that time they've been friends but nothing more. Some of Fitz's other friends have made their intentions known, and Fitz wonders if it's time to give up on his intense Mr. Small fixation. All these choices and he's waiting for the one guy who hasn't said a thing since May.  A conversation and some much needed (sexy) clarification ensues.**************My personal Robert headcanon; couldn't resist writing it. Makeouts, light erotica, sex mentioned. Feeling like a Craig Fic next...





	Tyranny of Choice

This is the night, Fitz told himself firmly as he walked down the sidewalk in front of Joseph’s house, this is when I finally put boundaries up, and settle into friendship with Robert once and for all. He was going to finally commit to something new with one of his very sexy other options and stop pining for a fucked-up bad boy who probably wasn’t even particularly interested in him anymore as more than a friend, and enjoy what he had in both arenas. This was going to happen, and this was going to be a subdued, nice night with a good friend who will never be more than a good friend who he just happened to want to kiss and have sex with and fuck and even settle down with and….

But it was time for him to give that dream up and move on, and tonight was the night he was going to prove that he could make the mature choice. They would be friends, and nothing more, and that was going to be enough. Hell, it was probably what Robert wanted.

If he could just act normal it would all be okay, and the two of them could transition easily into a comfortable if flirtatious friendship.

He took a very deep and fortifying breath, walked up to the door, and knocked.

And when Robert opened it, in a beat-up gray tank-top and black cotton lounge pants, his eyes tired but his hair cut and smell clean and his stubble trimmed just the right length, Fitz held on to his newly formed conviction of self control and doing what was best for dear life.

“Hey, Dr. Loomis,” Robert said, and smiled that warm and private smirk, the one that made Fitz’s will liquid and his hormones wild, “miss me?”

Fitz made his lips widen into a model of a smile, and started to mentally remind himself why he had to answer that as diplomatically, and neutrally, as possible. He could already tell this night was going to be hell.  
*************

The decision to finally let Robert go was made earlier in the evening of Robert’s return, a quiet night home where Fitz had planned to just watch TV and sleep as much as possible. He’d been stewing on the issue for days, since not long after Robert had left to visit New York and throughout Amanda’s thanksgiving vacation, though her presence and humor had been a very significant and welcome distraction from his desperate confusion.

Now that she had returned to her whirlwind college life, and Fitz once again had the mental space to think about his newly formed glut of romantic options, he focused on how not a one of these options was the charismatic manic-depressive whittler of his dreams. Not even a new episode of Hot Hipster Travel Chef could hold his attention for long, and his brain kept tripping down the same sad spirals.

Shit, this was depressing. God, trying to sleep wasn’t working, and he knew he should get some fresh air and head out. But where would he go, the Coffee Spoon? That was out after what had happened on Monday; there was no way he was ready to see Mat again so soon, not before Fitz knew how to respond to that kiss.

There was the bar, but that would just make him think of Robert even harder.

He could go to bed, but then he’d have to get up at a reasonable hour and possibly be cajoled into running with Craig, something he was usually down for but currently found sorta intimidating.

There was always the option of being completely immature and avoiding sleep by mainlining questionable TV on the couch so he’d have a real valid excuse not to go anywhere. He’d tell Craig there was nothing for it, it wasn’t really his fault, bro, he was way too exhausted to move. This might have been a good route except honestly he’d rather be sleeping and avoiding consciousness.

It’d be a bit easier if Robert had been completely silent during the two weeks, but he’d actually been texting steadily: random pictures of New York, claims of the crimes he was getting up to, and reviews of movies he’d seen. At one point the weekend before he’d even called, tipsy but not drunk.

“Hey, what you doing?” Robert had asked, obviously outside based on the sounds of the street and city around him.

“Oh, not much of anything, just reading a book Hugo gave me,” Fitz said, telling his heart to chill the hell out, it wasn’t that big a deal he was hearing that scratchy, stupid sexy voice for the first time in days, “and listening to some music. Amanda’s out with her friends and she’s probably going to crash at some Emma’s house, so I have the night to myself. I’m still thinking about that dog.”

“I told you, you want a dog, you can borrow Betsy, especially when she needs a walk. How about you borrow her twice daily?”

“Sounds great, I like it. And then if she doesn’t happen to come home some nights, well, that’s just what happens sometime.”

“You itching to steal my dog, huh?”

“Hey, sometimes a man needs protection from the paranormal, and we both know she secretly moonlights as a demon-killing pitbull. How’s Val? Do you like her girlfriend?”

He snorted. “Val’s good, and Lydia’s cool. She’s pretty funny, even for a comedian, and puts up with the Small sense of humor okay, for a human. I’ve been visiting old friends, too, at least the ones I know won’t try to get me drunk or slip me little baggies. It’s been good, and they’ve all been really supportive.” His voice had softened in a way that made Fitz’s heart hitch. “They keep telling me how good I look, and if I hear ‘it’s great to see you, man, stay in touch’ one more time I’m going to punch someone.”

Fitz laughed. “Yeah, what a bitch to be liked. I don’t know how you handle it.”

“You have absolutely no idea what that feels like, huh, half the town after your ass.”

Not sure if that’s true, Fitz remembered thinking in a way that he now knew was naive, and bit down the honest retort of how Robert was the one he really wanted near his ass by pretending he hadn’t heard that comment, or the edge in Robert’s voice. “Seriously, glad to hear it; you’re a lot better friend than you admit, Small. It makes sense that your old buds miss you.”

“How about my new friends?” Robert’s voice had that playful growl that came up when he drank even a little bit, that edge of flirtation that Fitz didn’t know what to do with anymore, not since Body Heat and their unspoken agreement to keep it platonic. “Do they miss me?”

Fitz was so glad he was alone, because his face was hot and his throat felt weird. “Well, I ran into Mary yesterday, and she said how fucking glad she didn’t have to deal with you for a bit; I think in her language that’s a yes, she can’t wait until you get back.”

“I wasn’t talking about Mary, you -”

“Dad!” Fitz recognized Val’s voice; she said something he couldn’t hear.

“Okay okay I’m coming; sorry, Fitz, they’re taking me to a burlesque show and I’m already being blamed for being late and the shitty seats we’re going to be stuck with. I’ll give you a text review?”

“Sounds good, have fun,” Fitz said, and when they had both hung up he had leaned back and closed his eyes, cursing the giddiness that even just that short a conversation had made him feel. He really wished Robert would stop flirting like he did, and at the same time wanted it to go on forever; he had a suspicion it was habit by this point, a lingering acknowledgement of their chemistry, but not a sign of anything deeper or more significant. God, he missed Robert. God, he hated himself for how young and vulnerable that made him feel. The man had made it clear they were just friends, and Fitz had to abide by and respect that. But he was also starting to see he needed some romance and sex in his life, and if he didn’t untangle himself emotionally from Mr. Small he was going to let some very good opportunities pass him by.

Fitz took a sip of the tea he’d made to fight his insomnia and pulled a face - it tasted like socks and wasn’t providing the pleasant drowsiness it promised on the box whatsoever - and sighed. Goddamnit. He really needed to sort his crap out, because at the rate things were going he’d soon be avoiding all his friends and end up even more alone and loveless.  
**********************************************  
Three specific incidents on top of his consuming desire for Robert had kicked him into this funk.

First incident: Craig and him, the day before Amanda arrived, sitting in the diner enjoying BRUNch and just generally being goofy. Craig had gotten a lot more relaxed over the summer and autumn with Fitz’s help, and now felt less guilty about handing off the kids to Smashley and occasionally enjoying himself and his time. This was mostly great as it meant the two of them got to spend more time together, except some of the things Craig been saying lately had started to make Fitz downright twitchy.

There was, for example, the time a couple of weeks ago when the two of them were hanging out at Craig’s house, and Fitz was talking how, with deliberate silly self-deprecation, that despite how proud he was of his fitness gains over the past 6 months it was also kinda sad, because he’d always be a scrawny waif next to Craig’s Greek God perfection. And then Craig had smiled at Fitz in a way that made him suddenly very nervous, all that beautiful, pointy grin and those warm bro-eyes.

“Dude, you’re super hot, you know that, don’t you?” Craig wouldn’t let Fitz look away for some reason, and the throw-off tone he used to say those words was belied by by his intense gaze. “You’ve always been hot, and you’ve barely aged since college. Being cut is good for your health, but you never needed to change. You’re perfect the way you are.”

Well, fuck, then. That had shut Fitz down like whoa, and made him feel something beyond friendship, something he’d been actively staying away from no matter how perfect his re-discovered best friend's ass was. And since he’d not been prepared to feel anything for anyone outside of Robert for months, he was also struck speechless for several moments.

With a muttered thanks he had finally broke their gaze and changed the subject to some great ideas for that new Atheleisure line, throwing out things such as neon orange overalls and baggie MC Hammer pants for all one's Chinese Typewriter dance fitness needs.

The diversion worked, both of them were soon laughing like hyenas, and Fitz’d mostly forgotten about it until that BRUNch, where Craig was suddenly talking about camping again.

“Hey, so when we making this happen, bro?” he said cheerfully but also accusingly, his fork pointed at Fitz at a definitively confrontational angle. “I know you were busy all summer with Amanda, and were in a funk all Fall, but it’s a new season. Time to have new adventures and do something new.”

“I don’t know,” Fitz said, looking down at the food on his plate with far too much interest. “I mean, seriously, dude, I’m not the camper I used to be. I’d probably set the tent on fire while we slept. We’d be Darwin Awards.”

“It’s camping in a designated campground, Fitz, and camping is not exactly a muscle you have to keep flexing. We'd be fine.”

“Yeah, well, it’s also chilly as hell right now, and as I get closer to death I definitely don’t have the cold-resistance I used to. Wouldn’t it be better if we went in Spring? Like, aim for post-snow but pre-mosquitoes? That’d be nice.”

“Sure, I guess.” Craig shrugged and looked a bit disappointed, but then suddenly smiled at Fitz again, his face now a bit flush. “But if you change your mind, you won’t have to worry about the chill, bro. I’d keep you warm the whole time. You wouldn’t even know it was winter.”

We’ll that’s clear enough, isn’t it, Fitz thought. His brain had instantly gone to what positions Craig might assume while warming him up, and the sex-charged discomfort that stirred had him booking out of there on the pretense of too much physical activity as soon as they’d finished eating. Craig had given him a thoughtful, regretful nod, and Fitz knew this was a conversation they had to have soon.

The second incident took place with Mat on Monday, after the two of them had left a show played by three ska-punk groups that had Fitz giddy and gleeful that there were still some badass bands doing awesome shit in his favorite genre. He couldn’t stop telling Mat how awesome they’d been, and Mat kept laughing at him and smiling that warm, thoughtful smile that was like a hug with perfect teeth.

“You’re the best, Mat, I mean it.” Fitz playfully bumped into his friend as they walked; they were close to the cul-de-sac, and had just finished deciding on which band was the best and which needed the most work. “I’d never have begun to go to these great concerts without you; it’s ridiculous, but they make me feel young again. If it wasn’t for my aching joints and the looming weight of encroaching mortality I’d think I was 21 again.”

Mat laughed. “I’m sure you were a ridiculously cute 21. I can just imagine you bouncing around stage and skanking like a fiend. You still skank like a fiend.”

“Awwww, you say the sweetest things,” Fitz said, and stopped, because they were at the entrance to the cul-de-sac and it was time for them to part ways. “Thank you so much, Mat, I’m serious. That was too cool.”

“No, you’re too cool,” Mat retorted affably.

“No, you a-” before Fitz could finish one of Mat’s hands were on the side of Fitz’s face and the other around his waist, and he pulled the leaner man forward into a really lovely, gentle kiss with just the right amount of insistence in it.

Before Fitz could respond Mat had pulled back but not let him go, gently brushing his cheek. “No, you.” He said softly.

Fitz made an incoherent noise to that, something not unlike a whimper crossbred with a sigh.

“Do you know,” Mat continued, the look in his eyes more adoring and romantic than Fitz thought he could bear, “that I’ve been starting to compose again? Writing songs whenever I’m not working? That I’m actually going to be playing at our next open mic night?”

“What?” That news distracted Fitz from the arm around his waist and that kiss. “That’s so great, Mat! I can’t wait to hear you play!”

“Thanks. It’s because of you, you know.” He let Fitz go at that, but his hands lingered around his upper arms, burning like fire through Fitz’s jacket. “You’ve inspired me to finally be creative again, to maybe take some risks and get up there. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome?”

Mat laughed, and finally stepped back, a wry look on his face. “See you soon, Fitz. Whenever you’re ready.”

He turned and walked towards his house, and Fitz watched him go, stunned and touched and a bit turned on. Why were all my closest friends so fucking beautiful? He thought, and sighed to himself.

The final incident that had Fitz rattled had been his conversation with Hugo at the most recent trivia night, where Havarti like it's 1999 was having its worst showing in a long time.

“You okay?” Hugo asked, expression concerned. “Is it Amanda?”

“No. I mean, yes, it’s amazing having her here even if she's spending half the time with her friends, and it’s gonna be horrible when she leaves and I hope that this feeling gets less sucky the more I get used to her leaving me. It’s just, well.” Fitz chewed on his lip. “Hugo, when is a good time to let something go? Emotionally, I mean. When do you give up?”

Hugo’s gaze suddenly turned distant, and an expression of still control and thoughtfulness settled over his features as he took a slow and deliberate sip of his wine. Fitz recognized it as his teacher face, and it was one he didn’t see during their personal conversations very often. “Is this about Robert?”

“Yeah. Yeah it is.” Something about Hugo’s body language was bothering Fitz, and he felt guilty for even bringing it up. It’d been a mistake, but he wasn’t sure yet why that was. “Sorry, it’s nothing. I just wonder if maybe it’s time for me to move on with my life, you know, think about seeing other people? Live my life, let him live his, and we’ll just be good friends, you know? Anyways. Sorry, I’m being stupid. How’s Liesl?”

Liesl was Hugo’s new girlfriend, a lovely woman and teacher at his school he’d started seeing a few weeks before. Fitz had met her once and found her very sweet and fond of Hugo, if obviously puzzled by the man’s wrestling obsession. Fitz hoped she’d accept it in time.

“She’s fine, and you’re not being stupid. It’s a good question.” Fitz suspected that was the same tone of voice he’d use to tell a boneheaded teenager his wondering what the fuck was wrong with Juliet that their musing weren’t simplistic and moronic. “Unfortunately, there’s no easy answer to that. Have you and him not talked about your relationship since Amanda’s party?”

“No, not really.” Well, there’d been that one night a month after the party, after Robert had shown him ‘Body Heat’, and they’d both drunk too much in response to the sharp sexual discomfort caused by Kathleen Turner and William Hurt’s intense sex scenes. Drinking was exactly the wrong thing to do, because near the end somehow asking Robert to pass the wine bottle turned into Fitz being deeply, aggressively, and very sensually kissed as he arched upward to press as much of his body against the other man’s as possible.

Then Robert had shoved himself off the couch and stumbled backward as he ran a shaking hand through his hair, and the regret on his face and the hard outline in his pants had confused Fitz to no end. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. Fuck.” He’d looked to the floor and taken a deep breath. “Maybe we should finish the movie some other time?”

“Sure.” At that Fitz had left, and they’d never talked about what had happened, or finished Body Heat. He wondered how it ended. After a week of silence their friendship and movie watching had continued as if that small makeout breakout had never happened, but somehow the movies they watched never seemed to have much sex in them, and Robert seemed to drink less wine around him then he had before. Their whittling trips to the woods weren’t as long as they used to be, either, as if Robert didn’t want to find himself out too late with Fitz. And Fitz felt terrible about it, because he took it as indicative of how much Robert didn’t want to hook up with him.

Fitz brought himself back to the conversation with Hugo, noting to himself that whole incredibly confusing, heartbreaking and loin-stirring encounter didn’t really count as a discussion. “He’s been a good friend, and I’m really proud of how he’s pulled himself together, but no, there’s been nothing brought up since he told me that he had some things to work on.”

“Have you considered bringing it up?”

“No.” Fitz shook his head vigorously. “Nope and nein. He’d made it clear to me that he needed time and space, and I want to respect that. I also haven’t gotten the sense that he wants to talk about it, and I just have this feeling of dread, you know, like I’m an idiot whose subtly putting pressure on someone who needs to concentrate on themselves for a while. Maybe for years. Putting pressure on him would make me an asshole and unfair, but as long as I don’t date anyone else, I feel like I’m putting my life on hold for him. And that seems unfair to myself. Does that make sense?” And perhaps, even worse, he’s changed his mind, Fitz also thought, but that just seemed too pitiful and desperate to put into words, so he didn’t.

“Yes, yes it does. Too much sense.” Hugo smiled a little, something private, and Fitz felt a pang around his heart. “Although it also sounds like you’re terrified of bringing it up and and hearing something you don’t want to hear, which I understand. I understand that a great deal.” He finished his wine then in one quick gulp, something Fitz had never seen him do before. “You have to do what’s right for you, Fitz, because as Robert has made clear, right now he has to work on himself and can’t help you. But we’re not getting any younger, and you have to ask yourself, do you want to wait for him forever? And if not, how long’s long enough before you’re just torturing yourself?”

Fitz had figured out by this point that Hugo was also talking about himself, and there was that pain around his heart again, the one that he’d felt when talking to Craig, and to Mat after the concert and that kiss. The sense that he had options to solve his deeper loneliness problems, wonderful options with people he adored and that somehow seemed to find him pretty fantastic and sexy for whatever crazy reason, and he was letting them pass him by as he waited for his whisky-soaked, pathologically sarcastic unicorn to come sweep him off his feet. No, he wasn’t just letting them pass him by, that was too kind: judging by Hugo’s tense body language and the pain around his brow, he was hurting these lovely men by dragging them into the same limbo he occupied. That wasn’t okay, and Fitz needed to end it, one way or another.

“Thanks, Hugo. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“You’re welcome.” There was an uncomfortable moment where they ordered more wine, and the happy chatter of the other teams burbled around them. But then Quizmaster Quinn started to ask them about Disney princes, they got into a good-hearted argument about the Prince Charmings and which one was a bigger asshole, and everything was good again.

But Fitz was disquieted, and he knew it was time to make a decision.  
**************************************  
Stewing over that decision had taken the whole of the next several days when he wasn't concentrating on Amanda, and Fitz wasn’t sure if he wanted to thank or curse Robert for bringing it to a head and saving him from his gross tea by texting him, and asking if he could come over to Fitz’s place. He must have just gotten home, because the red truck hadn’t been in his driveway a few hours ago.

The thought of Robert in his space made him really nervous, so Fitz claimed his house was far too messy and asked if he could go over there. This was a good arrangement. This way he could leave whenever he was ready, and stay in control of the situation. This way he couldn’t be left, but would instead leave. This was a good order of things, and gave him just the smallest bit of comfort. He'd mentioned the whole situation to Amanda and she'd agreed he had to do something about it. "Robert's cool and crazy in a mostly good way, dad, but you deserve to have a relationship. I hate to see you so mopey," she'd said, poking him in his upper arm, and he'd laughed but knew she was right, just like Hugo had been. 

So now he was in Robert’s living room, giving Betsy the flank rubs that made her little leg twitch uncontrollably and adorably, and trying to keep it together enough to survive a night he was desperately dreading but knew he’d have to deal with if he honestly wanted to transition into a normal friendship with the man. Was it possible? He didn’t know if it was possible, especially with how Robert’s ass looked in those lounge pants dear fucking god-

“So it was a great time overall, huh?” Fitz made himself ask, pointedly looking at Robert’s face as his friend turned around. He crushed down the surge of pride at how healthy Robert’s skin looked, and how the dark bags under his eyes had all but disappeared. And yet he still looked sexy and brooding, just a less alcoholic sexy and brooding. That salt and pepper hair had been recently cut in a stylish almost-undercut that Robert should be too old to pull off but somehow was made younger by.

“Yeah, Val and I managed to knock over a few banks and no one’s the wiser, and even got to see one of Lydia’s stand-up sets. She was great.” Robert handed Fitz a glass of rose and smiled. “It was good all around. Pappy was in town too, and we talked some. He said he was glad I wasn’t fucking killing myself anymore, and I let him know I’d just chosen more efficient poisons. Sick bastard liked that.” He said ‘sick bastard’ with a great deal of affection, and Fitz wondered at the Small family dynamics, not for the first time. He sat on the couch and threw one muscular arm over the back, making it clear he expected Fitz to sit next to him. “I’ll tell you more on that later, still sorting through our whole conversation. But I’m sorry, I noticed I spent all our texts talking about me, not you, which is typically narcissistic. How was your vacation? How’s the kid?”

Fitz gulped down some wine, looked at Robert in his dark cottons and with that damn relaxed expression on his face, those perfectly formed fierce dark eyebrows arched over those perfect eyes - he had a thing about Robert’s eyebrows he thought was a bit weird and thus had never mentioned to anyone - and sat firmly down on one of the bar stools near the kitchen. They were just the right distance away but still close enough for a conversation; he tried to ignore the furrow that just appeared between those brows and took another drink.

“Oh, Amanda’s good, she’s making friends at an astronomical rate at school. I think the traits that made her feel like a bit of an outcast in High School makes her the belle of the art school ball there. We spent way too much time watching TV when she wasn’t with her friends, and I’m going to go pick her up for the holiday break and we’ll travel back together. I’m really looking forward to it.” He sighed, and noticed his wine was already gone. “I know you know this, but I miss that kid. I miss that kid way too much.”

“Well, yeah, you’re fucking codependent as fuck, of course you’d miss her.” The light tone cut the harshness of his words, and Fitz knew exactly how me meant them. “And she’s pretty cool.” His eyes narrowed and his tone changed. “But why the hell are you all the way over there?”

“I…” Fitz paused. “Didn’t want to crowd you on the couch? Figured after the throngs of New York you’d need some space?”

“Yes, because a three-seater isn’t big enough for the two of us and feels just like Times Fucking Square. You’re making me think there’s a proximity bomb with a 3 foot radius that’s about to go off. Get over here; if I’m getting blown up I’m taking you with me. And take off your jacket, for fuck’s sake.”

Fitz reluctantly relented, putting his jacket on edge of the couch and sitting on the opposite end from Robert.

“Not there. Here.” Robert patted the cushion next to him, and his voice did not invite dissention.

Fitz did as he was told and shuffled over in as horizontal a manner as possible, refusing to turn his body at an angle that closed the gap even further between him and the man he knew he was desperately in love with. He could smell him, the shower and the deodorant and the Oud Wood by Tom Ford cologne that evoked so much masculinity and the natural musk that had become stronger and sexier over time as he drank and smoked less.

Fitz winced as the sensation of lust and yearning came over him, the one that’d been his constant companion for five months. He recognized now that Mat and Craig coming on to him had been a turn on, but in such a way that it just made him want to jump Robert more. When he’d masturbated afterward it hadn’t been their faces or lips or hands behind his eyes, it’d been Robert’s face and hands and cock he’d never even seen and- he found himself scootching a few inches back in the direction he’d come from until a hand landed on his neck and he froze.

“Where you going, Loomis?” Robert’s voice was an annoyed growl, and the feel of fingers on the base of his skull, exerting a pressure that in any other situation FItz would classify as proprietary, tensed him up even more.

“I’m worried I’m getting sick and I don’t want to infect you.”

“You really are the worst liar I’ve ever seen, outside of your occasional paranormal-related storytelling brilliance. What’s wrong?” That hand squeezed encouragingly, and Fitz almost groaned. “I’d say it's Amanda, but you don’t seem more broken up about it than usual. It’s definitely something to do with us.”

Robert shifted closer, and a cotton knee under a perfect muscular thigh knocked into FItz’s leg as a hand landed on his forearm. “You hooked up with someone, didn’t you? Who was it?” The tone of his voice had deepened. “Mat? Craig? Damien? Please tell me it wasn’t Joseph-”

“No! No, I haven’t hooked up with anyone. I mean, Mat kissed me, and Craig really wants to go camping-”

  
“‘Camping’, huh? That’d be hard to turn down with Mister Happy Hardbody, especially when he’s your closest friend. And puppy-eyes-hipster-face kissed you? And you didn’t go home with him?” There was a naked, sharp jealousy there that made Fitz wince. Robert’s grip tightened, and Fitz made himself pull away back to his corner of the couch and ignore the annoyed rumble that earned him from Robert. He needed distance to have this conversation, and he saw now how stupid it was to think he could avoid it.

“It’s not that! I didn’t even consider making out with him. It’s just.” Fitz made himself take a deep breath, close his eyes, and find the center he’d grasp for when Amanda had been going through some of her more trying phases. “Robert, I don’t want to put any pressure on you, because you don’t need it, and you’ve been an awesome friend these past few months. I’m so happy to have you in my life, and to know you’re doing so well. I love that you’re healthy, and reconnecting with old friends and Val. I don’t want our friendship to go away. But.”

He finally looked over at Robert and saw his expression was stormy and upset in a way he hadn’t seen in months, and his hands were bunched into fist on his lap. God, he was such a bastard to bring this up, but it was too late to stop now. “This…. Thing that we have,” he made a motion between the two of them, and looked away again because Robert’s stricken expression was more than he could bear, “that we’re doing, is driving me crazy, and I think we need to change it. We flirt, constantly, in really specific ways I don’t with anyone else, but it doesn’t go anywhere. Probably shouldn’t go anywhere, because you’re not ready, might never be ready.”

He hoped he didn’t sound as plaintive on that note as he felt. He felt the couch shift and wondered if Robert was going to get up and do that thing where he paced like a caged wolf.

“And that’s okay, because this is and should be about you, and you should take as long as you need. But I need some distance from it, and we should downshift into something more normal, something less charged, and -”

Before he could finish that sentence Robert was right next to him, intense eyes and coiled anger. Fitz flinched at what he saw there until a hand landed on the cushions behind him and another grabbed his chin to hold his face still for an absolutely astounding kiss that seemed to engulf his senses. Robert was a demanding yet epic kisser,with an underlying dominance there in firm, sexy lips, and that masterful tongue. The nibbling involved was destroying Fitz’s sanity.

Fitz’s hands moved of their own accord under Robert’s tank and clenched at that chest hair he so desperately wanted pressed against his chest, but his mouth was moving as well. “Hey. Hey, HEY.” He said into Robert’s mouth, which caused the owner of said mouth to pull back and look down at Fitz, his cheeks ruddy and his bedroom eyes clouded with lust.

“Yeah?”

“What are we doing?”

Robert smiled like a wolf. “First, I’m rejecting your suggestion we downshift, because I’d recently decided the opposite. Also, we’re finally kissing. Making out, actually, and this time I’m not stopping. And then we’re going to go upstairs,” he’d moved forward again, and was now at Fitz’s neck, the touch of his lips and the hands moving down into Fitz’s track pants, and under the elastic and it was making Fitz spinny, “and we’re going to fuck like wild animals, and then,” he nipped at the bottom of Fitz’s ear, making him moan, “we’re going to do it again, but slower, and more gently, and with exquisite care,” breath behind his ear, “and it’s going to be goddamn amazing. And maybe, just maybe and if you’re real nice, I’ll let you fuck me. Boxer briefs, huh? Exactly what I thought.”

“Are you sure?” Fitz turned his head and put his hands to each side of Robert’s face, staring into his eyes. It was hard to do because he was really turned on and he’d much rather be returning Robert’s attentions in kind, but he was confused and excited and he didn’t want to do something wrong. He’d been worrying so hard for so long, and he was still concerned this wasn't the right answer, no matter how much his every cell called for it. “I wasn’t trying to force your hand, Robert, or to, oh god,” he’d not noticed how much he’d climbed into Robert’s lap until the other man had lifted up his hips into his and their erections had met, “to make you feel you have to sleep with me. Fuck. Stop moving! I’m trying to be an adult, here!”

“Nope.” Robert lifted his hips, and smirked at Fitz’s tortured guttural response, wrapping one large hand around Fitz’s hands. “No adulting. As someone who’s been doing that for months, I can promise you, that shit’s utterly overrated, if sometimes necessary.” He brought the hands he held to his lips, and kissed them, his smile gone and his eyes serious.

“Look, Fitz. The last few months have been torture. I didn’t want to pull you into my bullshit until I thought I had it under control, until I thought I wouldn’t hurt you. That was the right decision, and I was proud of myself for about a day, but it’s been really hard spending so much time with you and not doing more. There was a time there, around Body Heat night, that I considered doing what you’re suggesting, cutting this off and moving into friendship only.

“But the thought goddamn sucked, and felt so wrong and shitty, I dropped it completely. And before I went to New York I’d been thinking while I’m not sure if I’m worthy of you yet I have to be close enough, because I couldn’t take not touching you any longer. Fuck, I have a brand new bottle of lube and some fresh condoms, on which I wrote your name with a spanking new Sharpie. I missed you the last two weeks. A lot. It was embarrassing.”

“Really? You wrote my name on your condoms?”

“No, asshole, I didn’t really write your name on my goddamn condoms.” Robert suddenly grinned. “But I thought about it, because it would make you laugh.”

“Missed opportunity, there.” Fitz sighed, and looked at their hands. “I thought you’d moved on, or I convinced myself you’d moved on. I was goddamn impatient, and an idiot.”

“Yeah, maybe, not as bad as me. I was really pissed at myself in New York for not doing this before I left.” One of his hands was drifting down FItz’s forearm, oh so slowly. “I kept worrying about you, here, with all these dudes who I know for a fact want to fuck you, and I hadn’t told you yet that I was foremost among them and ready to stake my claim.

"And I am staking my claim here, Bings.” Robert had that dead sexy snarl on again, and he suddenly wrapped his arms around Fitz and pulled him forward so Robert could reach his neck, his lips landing and his teeth at Fitz’s throat. “You know why it’s especially good you didn’t sleep with Mat, or Craig, or anyone else while I was gone?”

“No?” Fitz’s voice came out throaty and low, and he embraced Robert’s shoulders to bury his fingernails in the man’s back as his legs came around to hug his torso so their bodies came together in a tangle and the room was suddenly very warm.

Robert’s voice was right near his ear, oh, god, he was biting it and his hands were now gliding easily underneath the elastic band of FItz’s sweat pants again. “Because I’m not a good person. I might be a better person now, perhaps the best I’ve ever been. But I wouldn’t say quite that I’m good, because there is no way in hell I’d have let anyone else have you as long as you’ll have me no matter how many times you’d fucked them. if you’d already slept with someone else I would just have seduced you, and done everything we’re going to do, and make you not only say my name,”

“Oh, god, Robert,” Fitz groaned and buried a hand in Robert’s hair as fingers landed firmly both on his cock and cupped his ass.

“-Just like that,” the pleasure purred in his voice as he circled his fingers around Fitz and started to stroke him, “I’d not let you come until you were screaming it. And it’d make you feel guilty, and I’d feel a little bit guilty for that, but not enough to stop.” He kissed Fitz again, then, slowly and bruisingly, and then met his eyes and trapped them. “And I want to be the one to fuck you in a tent, and while sappy hipster guitar rock is playing, and on the back of my truck and up against a tree while the Dover Ghost watches. Me. Because you are fucking mine, Fitz, as long as you’ll have me, got it?”

Robert was practically growling by this point, and their hips were moving together, grinding, the sensation too good and it was almost too much. Fitz suddenly found himself laughing, and buried his face in Robert’s shoulder and a hand in his tank top. He felt the hair underneath and saw himself grabbing it as Robert fucked him and laughed even harder.

“That funny, huh?” Robert said huskily, clasping the back of his head and tweaking his hair.

“I think I’m just happy, and relieved, and laughing at myself, and also smelling you and you smell, really, really good. I think,” he licked the edge of Robert's ear, “that I’d like to go upstairs now so you can start that making me scream your name thing, please.”

Without answering Robert scooped him up so quickly Fitz let out a yelp and wrapped his legs around the other man’s ass so he didn’t fall, and they stumbled up the stairs kissing until they tumbled on the landing. Now Robert was laughing, that deep masculine rumble, and Fitz pulled his lover’s pants down and ran his tongue up his cock. Robert snarled how that was cheating, and somehow they were in the bed and Fitz was arching his back demanding Robert enter him now, fuck, those fingers weren’t quite enough and it was killing him.

When Robert complied, kissing his knees as he pushed forward and they moved together, Fitz gasped at the fullness of it, the ecstasy, and groaned Robert’s name.

“I love you,” Robert said in a purr as he leaned forward to kiss him, and Fitz wasn’t even sure if he’d heard him correctly because that wild urge had kicked in. He pushed into the rhythm and Robert and it was everything he’d wanted and as he came, repeating Robert’s name again and again and until his throat was hoarse and he was being kissed again.

“That was fun,” Robert said a bit later, a pleased smile in his voice as he ran his fingers through FItz’s hair. “Let’s do it again sometimes.”

Fitz made a breathless noise of agreement and burrowed himself deeper into Robert’s shoulder, loving the feeling of spent exhaustion he felt throughout his body and the smell of the man he adored all over and around him. “Anytime, anywhere, Mr. McSturgiss. Hey!” He’d thought of something, and rolled up to stare down into Robert’s dark eyes. “Does this mean we can finally watch all the sexy Criterion Collection movies you’ve been hiding from me? And maybe, you know, finishing Body Heat so I finally find out what happens?”

“We will be watching so many sexy movies, I can’t even tell you. And we can even try to make it to the end without attacking each other. Can’t promise it, tho’.”

“I can live with that,” Fitz said and fell back down, feeling instantly drowsy. He used the last of his energy to kiss Robert’s bicep, and scritch that oh-so-appealing chest hair before falling asleep.  
**********************  
Fitz woke up, for the second time, at around 8; the first time Robert had been kissing his neck, his hands on Fitz’s hips, and then had made slow, deliberate, maddeningly hot love to him just as promised. He shivered in pleasure as he remembered the feeling of Robert’s lips on his shoulder, and how easily they slipped into rhythm together. He opened his eyes and was surprised to find himself alone, but heard kitchen noises downstairs.

He put on his clothes and wandered downstairs to find Betsy snoozing on the couch and Robert making omelets. Beautiful omelets that were tidy and neat and the opposite of any omelet Fitz himself had ever made. He’d be jealous if he wasn’t so touched, and also turned on by the sight of Robert, in the same black pants from last night and no shirt, looking so goddamn domestic and focused. He wore his whittling face, and Fitz loved his whittling face. All that irony and defiance and the tinge of self-loathing fell away leaving just a handsome man enjoying the use of his hands, and it was insanely sexy.

Fitz blushed as his brain pointed out that Robert wore a very similar expression during sex, and Robert looked up at him at that very moment.

“What’s that face for?” Robert said with an expert flip of his eggs and a perfectly raised eyebrow.

“Just thinking about the orgasmic perfection of your omelets, that’s all.”

“That’s the orgasm you’re thinking about? I’ll have to try harder.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea; if that wasn’t your hardest I’m a bit terrified of what is. I think it’d break me.”

“We’ll never know ‘til we try,” Robert said with a lip curl, and plated their meal perfectly. He put it on the bar in front of Fitz, reaching forward to touch his hands briefly before pulling back. Fitz heart fluttered, and told himself to calm down. Tender Robert was going to take some serious getting used to.

“How did you get to be such a good cook?” Fitz asked, stunned at how good the food was.

“I haven’t told you about my rebellious kitchen years yet? Shit, Fitz, those were some of the most ridiculous days of my life. I warn you now, some of my stories are pretty gnarly.” Robert settled in on the bar stool next to Fitz and settled in so that their shoulders touched.

Fitz leaned into him, and smiled. “Excellent. I fully expect to be horrified and disgusted.”

“Your wish is my command,” Robert smirked, and started into a story about fine dining, coked-up chefs and revenge on rude customers that had Fitz both gagging and laughing his ass off. He didn’t know if it was true and he didn’t care; he simply delighted in the story.

A bit later Fitz admitted he probably had to actually work a bit that day, and regretfully started to put on his shoes while trying to avoid staring at Robert, his sexy bare chest, and the thoughtful expression on his face. If he did, he knew he wouldn’t make it out the door for a while.

“Hey, Loomis,” Robert said as Fitz stood, and grinned, “there’s a ghost tour happening tonight the next town over, some bullshit attempt to try to pull some of that sweet paranormal profit Maple Bay is rolling in. Wanna crash?”

“Fuck yeah, I do.” Fitz steepled his fingers together, Mr. Burns style. “We’ll show those amateurs the nature of true terror and darkness; we shall strike deep into the recesses of their very souls.”

“We’ll goddamn destroy them,” Robert exulted, and stepped forward to give Fitz a gentle, quick kiss that left the receiver feeling just a little bit disappointed, although not enough to stop him laughing at that.

“See you,” Fitz said with deliberate casualness, and opened the door to step out into the sunny and crisp morning. Robert moved forward and took the doorknob, so Fitz expected him to close it behind him.

He looked out at the day and the cul-de-sac and took a deep breath. Being a weekend his neighbors were starting their days and moving about their business: Joseph and the older kids were playing on the yard right next door, and Fitz gave a little wave while trying to ignore the pastor’s thoughtful expression. Mary was walking to her car in the driveway with Jackie O sunglasses, a grimace and the toddler in tow. Damian was sweeping his front walk. Oh, fuck, Craig was just returning from a run, and Mat was sitting on his front porch with his daughter, obviously having left the cafe opening to one of his employees.

Reality started to co-mingle with his pleasure and the sense of being loved, as he knew it was time for those conversations with his friends, especially now that they were seeing him leave Robert’s house first thing in the morning. Not that it was conclusive, of course, as they knew what good friends they were and their history of ridiculous late-night shenanigans;still, to be respectful, Fitz should sit down with them, tell them how important their friendship was to him, and explain what had happened and his feelings and -

Before he knew what was happening a pair of very strong arms had wrapped themselves around him, and Robert was grabbing his ass and kissing FItz with just as much verve as the night before. Once the surprise wore off Fitz couldn’t help himself responding in kind, and he murmured in pleasure as he clenched Robert’s side and chest and their tongues played. He swore he heard Mary’s voice yell “Yeah, baby!”

After what felt like both an eternity and no time at all Robert lifted his head but didn’t let go, and Fitz took in a shaking breath and stared at Robert with eyes that felt huge.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what was that?”

Robert’s smile was nothing less than supremely smug, and Fitz couldn’t believe how sexy he found that look, or the hand that ran down his face gently. He was so screwed. “I said you were mine, didn’t I? Figured it was as good a time as any to prove it. Now you don’t have to explain a thing.”

“You suck, Small,” Fitz sighed, but god, his whole body felt warm, like the air was 30 degrees hotter than it actually was.

“Not yet, but I will if you’re nice.” Robert finally stepped back with a lingering touch on Fitz’s arm.

“That’s not the only thing you’ve promised me will happen if I’m nice,” Fitz lifted an eyebrow. “If I remember correctly.”

Robert’s smirk got downright sultry. “Yeah, that’s still on the table, but only if you pull it out tonight and show me those legendary Cryptid story chops I know you have. That’ll really fucking turn me on.”

“I think I can handle that.”

“Good.” Robert stepped back into his house. “Now get the hell off my stoop and get the fuck to work, punk.”

“Yeah yeah, love you too,” Fitz grinned at Robert’s widened eyes and slight flush that turned into a flashed smile of pleasure, and laughed at the steady stream of muttering as the door slammed close.

What a beautiful day, he thought as he walked past the Christiansen’s and twinkled at Joseph and Mary, him with his expression of tight lipped discomfort and her hilarious open leer.

Yes, he was going to have to talk to Mat, and possibly to Craig, and yes, it would be hard, and maybe even one or both would need some distance from him for a bit. And perhaps he wasn’t making the easiest choice, or the sweetest one, or the smoothest. He was getting himself into a complicated and intense relationship that was going to be a lot of work, and possibly at times downright exhausting.

But for all that complication and issues he was taking on, Fitz knew it didn’t invalidate the chemistry, and excitement, fun, and most importantly, love he felt for Robert. And it was thus the only choice he could make.

 

Fini.


End file.
